“I just don’t think it’s right to hold stuff against people, especially when it never affected you personally.” Good lord, I’m glad she doesn’t know about some of my extracurricular activities when Chris and I would go to Whiskey’s on Thursday nights to party. I wasn’t shy about picking up a guy for the night, and there’s no shame if we’re both into it, which we were.
More than a month ago, I would have still believed the same about him. But as I’ve gotten to know him in and out of the bedroom, I think he’s just really good at playing the role that everyone wants to see him in. Oscar-worthy actually.
He’s not that guy. Well, he isthatguy,or was. . . I think he’s changed, and her gossip isn’t going to deter me from trusting him.
She stares through her windshield when she sits back in her seat again. Glancing at me, she says, “You deserve someone who will love you to the ends of the earth, dear. You have a good day now, you hear?”
“I hear.” I step away from the car. “Bye.”
She doesn’t peel out, but I could sense her discomfort to get away because I didn’t give her what she came for: gossip and confirmation. I don’t owe her either and refuse to sustain that small-town feeding frenzy.
I cross Main, then hop onto the covered sidewalk that will lead me back to the shop. Thinking of Baylor has me grinning wildly to myself. I might even be blushing. He does that to me with no effort. His swoony words and handsome face are enough to make my heart start racing. How will this help my predicament, though? It won’t, but he sure is a nice distraction, especially at night when we’ve been texting.
Just a few exchanges have been enough to keep my hopes high for this trip to NYC. It will be the first time we can live normally instead of hiding or sneaking around and just breathe.
Can I really?
There’s no way I’ll be able to enjoy the long weekend with this hanging over my head. What do I do?
I enter the shop and see my mom near the coffee machine. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey, did you get your errands done?”
“Yeah. Thanks for working.”
“My pleasure.” She comes to the front of the counter just as I slip behind it. “You sound down. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.” I set my purse on the back table, and when I return, I catch her straightening the pens because she even likes those to look a certain way.
“This weekend should be the pick-me-up you need.” Oh . . . and then lied to her. As if I couldn’t feel worse. “It’s been a while since you’ve gotten out of town for a few days. Austin with friends sounds like good fun.”
Telling her I’m flying to New York to spend time with Baylor isn’t something I’m ready to share. The long talk that would come with it is worth avoiding.
I’m making a mess of my life one lie and omission at a time. Is this really who I’ve become? The sex is fantastic.Oh God, I’m pathetic.
I’ve mostly been looking forward to spending time with him in a way we’ve not had the chance to when he’s here in Peachtree Pass. That doesn’t ease the guilt of lying to my mom about the trip or what’s going on with the shop. And don’t even get me started on looking my best friend in the eyes the other day and telling her I wasn't interested in anyone to protect Baylor’s and my secret. It reminds me of when she was sneaking around with her husband. The parallels grow greater by the day.
“I’m looking forward to it.” That is something I don’t have to lie about.
“I can close the shop today. I’m here anyway. Why don’t you go pack and take a few hours off?” She already has a rag in hand to start her next task.
I don’t want to ruin her fun. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer.” Maybe a long bath will help me sort through my problem and come up with some solutions. I jump at the opportunity and hurry upstairs.
The water is filling the tub, I’m pouring a glass of wine even though it’s only four fifteen in the afternoon, and I put on some light jazz to try to relax. Panicking won’t get me to come up with clear answers to this issue.
I sink into the hot water and lean my head against the tiled wall. Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift before tackling the larger problems. The white wine is crisp and cool, a nice counter to the heat of the water.
My phone buzzes on the edge, and when I lift it, I smile. Answering after the second ring, I say, “I miss you.” If he can put himself on the line for me, I can do the same.
“Glad to hear I’m not the only one,” Baylor says. By his tone, I can imagine the grin on his face. The city is loud in the background. The sound of cars and a rush of wind fill the space behind him, setting the scene. “I can’t wait to see you again, Shortcake.”
I sink a little lower in the tub to cover my chest while holding the phone to my ear, not wanting to miss anything he says. I even hear him breathing and find comfort in the sound, knowing I’ll be back in his arms again. “Two days.”
“Two days.”
I sit up, almost knocking my wineglass off the side of the tub. The water splashes around as an idea begins to form.
Oh my God . . .
